The Mirror of Forsaken Destiny
by pandora0804
Summary: A powerful magic mirror is the only hope for the magical world, can it save us? Or are we doomed to a world that we have created? A single soul has sought out this mirror, will he find what he desires?
1. The Mirror

Disclaimer: I Do not own Harry Potter or any related material, I only want to play with the characters for awhile.

Description

A powerful magic mirror is the only hope for the magical world...can it save us...or are we doomed to a world that we have created...a single soul has sought out this mirror...will he find what he desires...

The Mirror of Forsaken Destiny….

Chapter One

The Mirror

There he stood, just facing the wall. Though you could not tell through the darkness, a mirror adorned that wall, a simple mirror, tarnished from the sands of time. His face was full of contemplative thought, his eyes focused on the goal. This man, who was really still a boy in many respects, stood with such poise that one must have suspected he was raised to be the utmost best. His head was graced with silver locks, and his complexion was of a pale hue, milky white; nothing blemishing his fair features. Though you could barely tell anything about this person, if you looked into his eyes you could see he was in dire straits. He looked so forlorn; nothing seemed to keep him here, not of this world at least.

He stepped up to the mirror, gazing at it with such intensity that one would have thought the glass of the mirror should have shattered. He knew some of the powers this mirror was imbued with, and he knew this was his last chance. Though at first glance this mirror would look just like a common mirror, seemingly ordinary, but if one knew how to tell, they would be shocked with the magnitude of its greatness. A simple verse was etched on the frame of the mirror, which would magically translate to the language of the one who looked into its reflection. The verse was as such:

Once what was,

Shall be seen again,

In a new light,

Sung to a different hymn.

But what he did not know, and anyone for that matter, was that there was another verse concealed on the back of the mirror. It told of its further power:

By some act of divine intervention,

Shall this vision be one of greater good,

The sands of time will be turned,

Its mere fabric will unfold,

And this new reality will come anew,

And hope will come to us once more.

The power which this mirror hides is this: it can show how the life, the destiny, of the person viewing the mirror could have changed, if they had taken a different action or course in life. Though we do not know if that back verse is truthful, we know it states that if the need was great enough, and the sight of this new reality was greater then the current one, then the mirror would fold the fabric of time and bring about this new truth.

He peered at the mirror, his nose nearly touching its surface. His grey eyes pierced it, trying to find a way to invoke its power. The longer he stood the more his spirit yearned for its power. Every fiber of his being screaming for an answer, yet only the silence answered his cries. He balled up his fist and shook it; that was the only way he could express his emotions. He slammed it against the stone and slumped against the wall. He put his hands to his face and wept. Everything he had been trying to keep caged in side him poured forth, like a dam breaking against the insistent pounding on its walls. The words finally escaped his lips, "Why me?"

He sat there for what seemed like ages, the silence of the room still bearing down on him.

"Why did everything have to go so wrong," a mere whisper uttered out of his lips, "Why did this have to happen to me, I never, in my whole life, thought a thing like this would ever happen." He wiped a lone tear from his eye. "I never thought one single person could have ever endured this much pain, whether it be physical or mental," a raw emotion echoed in his voice, "I wish it could all just end." Then he a thought lingered in his mind, "Why am I here then?"

He gathered up all of his will and stood once more. He slowly raised his eyes and faced the mystical relic. "This life I live in is a nightmare." he thought. He then spoke to the mirror, " I am here to see what my life would have been like with that certain person, whose name I do not utter here, but I know your power can tell you who I speak of. All I want is to see a moment with just them and myself, alone, with the time standing still; only basking in each others presence. My name is Draco Malfoy. Show me what I wish to see."

Then the mirror awoke. A blinding white like engulfed the room. Draco's hands were trying to shield his eyes from such intensity. A moving picture gradually came into the glass of the mirror. He watched the mirror, trying to give meaning to what this object was trying to show him. Then to the astonishment of Draco, the picture broke the confines of mirror. His surroundings gave way and he was immersed in this new scene. He lost all of his sense of space and direction. He did not know where he was only that the darkness was his only companion. And with that he lost consciousness slipping into a deep sleep.


	2. Once What Was

Disclaimer: I Do not own Harry Potter or any related material, I only want to play with the characters for awhile.

The Mirror of Forsaken Destiny….

Chapter Two

Once What Was

Draco had been raised like any ordinary heir to a high noble, pureblood wizarding family. He was told, even from the day he was born, that the Malfoy family was a name to be respected and revered. He was taught that anything less then a pureblood was to be looked down on with great distaste, like vermin, and even some of the pureblood families were not to be consorted with. These standards were etched him in every moment of his waking life, and even in his dreams. He knew no difference at all, he thought all that was told to him was the truth and he took it as gospel.

He was taught many of the finer points of the dark arts. As a child he was not graced with the intellect to know that one could lose himself in such magic, he could not even comprehend such ideas at such a young age. He was given many lessons on etiquette and fine skills. He learned how to talk from many great scholars of the language, specially brought in by his father, because nothing could be too good for his only heir. He was given anything and everything he ever wanted. He never lifted a single finger in his life.

No wonder he turned out the way he did.

He met Potter that day on the train, he offered his hand in friendship, a kind gesture for one of such high stature; but no, that boy turned him down. A half-blood rejected him like he was mere filth. He even went so far as to choose a Weasley, the scum of all purebloods, over him. Did Potter know who he was, he was a Malfoy. From that single moment, Draco had found his enemy, or had he.

Potter strutted around like he was a precious gem everyone wanted their hands on. He walked around with the Weasel and the Mudblood, Granger. He could not figure out which one he hated the most, the Mudblood for being good at everything even though she was a Mudblood, Weasley for being so poor and lacking any social grace, or Potter for being part of their little group. They were not forces to be reckoned with; even he noticed that, though he did not show it. He was jealous of them. He did not even let himself know that.

"Why do I bait them," he thought, "Why do I always try to start up a fight?"

Then that is when they walked by. Without even thinking he walked over toward them.

"What do you want this time Malfoy?" The words like acid escaping Harry's lips.

"Tut tut, Potter," Malfoy said smoothly, "Where are your manners."

"Where are your body guards?"

"Good one. I see your verbal skills have improved, though only by a small measure."

"I will ask you again Malfoy, what do you want?" There was little patience in these words.

"I was just wondering what you and your little fan club where up to, though I doubt it has any real importance."

"Watch it." said Ron who finally joined in.

"Didn't your parents teach you to only open your mouth, when you only have something important to add to the conversation? Or are your parents as brainless as you are?"

That single question sent Ron into a rage. Both Harry and Hermione had to grab his arms to prevent Ron from doing something that would, at this moment make him feel better, but one thing that he would eventually regret. He really wouldn't regret it so much as they didn't want him to get a detention or have Mr. Malfoy get into the situation.

"Whoa there Weasel, we may just have to put a leash on you."

"Well we could let go of him, but then we wouldn't want to clean up the mess," said Hermione, who finally got her first words in.

"I wasn't talking to you Granger, I wouldn't want to get dirty sinking down to your level."

Thankfully Hermione was not like Ron; her cool logic prevented her from releasing him and squeezing the life out of him, though she rather much wanted to. These words made Ron practically explode, and to everyone's surprise in a second Malfoy was down. Harry had lost his cool and released Ron and both of them lunged for the blonde. It was such a sight; none of them could have guessed that Malfoy had such a high-pitched voice. This didn't last very long. Hermione pulled the boys away from the Syltherin. Though she dearly wished to see this go on, her prefect duties and the fact that she knew a teacher was bound to show up, gave her the will to stop it.

"I will get you for this!" threatened Malfoy as he stalked away.

"I can't wait." Harry called at the boy.

As Malfoy neared the dungeons he said, "I can't believe the nerve of those two."


End file.
